


Talk to me

by chaoticneurobivergent



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Keith (Voltron), Photographer Keith (Voltron), mention of police brutality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticneurobivergent/pseuds/chaoticneurobivergent
Summary: Keith didn't do friends with comrades. So who cared if every time, he waited for the young boy to walk down the stairs and greet Allura with a blazing smile? He was too focused on the fight to open his heart to a boy already too busy for protests.- Keith has a way to do things and likes his routine as it is. Then he hears Lance talking.





	Talk to me

**Author's Note:**

> for Klance AU Month, I mixed up : **day 15: college** ; **day 26: artist** ; and used the day 28: free for my **activist** AU  
> it's not related to _Bittersweet_ , tho both stories have a similar setting  
> many thanks to @sunnyjolras for the beta!! <3
> 
> quick note about the french at the beginning:  
>  _assemblée générale_ = roughly translated by "general meeting"/"general assembly". called "AG" afterwards

As soon as Lotor took the mic, Keith saw the mess coming. From his spot on the side, he saw his hand take it from Shiro’s, a smirk playing on his lips as he lilted scathing words to the masses, each of the syllables almost ready to combust into an explosive shout . Keith knew right then that this _assemblée générale_ would end in flames. They were used to it ; any time their actions started getting noticed, right wingers would come in, complain about their ways of doing things, ignore facts, twist their words, change the conversation as they pleased, and, overall, profusely disagree. Disagreeing was okay - this was a space of debate after all. Being insulting, on the other hand, wasn’t.

They had a way of doing things, and they couldn’t just tell people to shut up - even though Keith was starting to consider it. Instead, he carefully took notes, point by point, to reply to Lotor and the friends he brought with him - law and business students, Keith was sure - as soon as it would be his turn to speak. He usually only talked once, if even at all, because public speaking wasn’t his forte. So he normally only raised his hand once, said what he had to say, left it there as food for thought, and let the others talk.

This, of course, was how it was supposed to go when no one raised their hands every five seconds, holding the mic close to their chest, making it their purpose to reply to each and every word said to them and prove them all who was in the right. This _was_ how it was going before Lotor started this awful debate, and now all the topics were jumbling together, everyone replying to three different points with four more. Keith lost track of when his turn to speak would come, but at this point the order was a mess and he wasn’t sure the board still cared.

Keith sighed and looked over at Pidge’s papers next to him. She had taken several of their bingos, and had already filled one - the one about masculinist phrases -, there was a few crosses on “ignore trans people exist”, and she was currently near a completing a lign on the ‘racism’ bingo Allura made. Damn. These guys were really hitting on all fronts. It was clumsiness, one could argue, and a lot of ignorance. Sure. Keith knew no one was born deconstructed - that was kind of the point. Yet, the way they kept talking and repeating themselves and shouting and smirking was too disrespectful for them to actually care. These protesters just came to silence them, not to actually discuss or even learn. Maybe they just wanted to make a mess, scream and feel better about themselves - who knew? Keith never really understood.

“-MOREOVER” Keith heard James insist on it, “you say the cops were brutal, but was your protest even legal?” Oh god here we go. Keith almost regretted coming today, almost regretted listening at all, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t consider leaving - but he only took his pen again, put some more words on paper. “You are aware there’s a procedure, right? If you didn’t follow it, then… I don’t know what to tell you.”

Retrospectively, Keith would say this was when the fire took.

“So what?” a girl shouted from the other side of the room - Keith recognized Acxa’s voice, and that itself was a good enough indicator of how bad the scene was. The board argued against her talking - she never raised her hand for the tour de parole - but Acxa ignored them. “SO WHAT? You’re saying we deserved it? You’re saying those teens with us deserved to be gassed? You’re saying the cops were _right_ to beat them up?” Her words were full of disgust, yet she had stayed calm voicing them. For a very short instant, the silence settled in the amphitheater. Then Keith heard the words stuck in his own throat. “Fuck you, Griffin. Fuck you, and fuck your procedures and your fucking laws.” She didn’t even wait for the situation to evolve: she took her bag and left.  

The blissful break Acxa had managed to create got shattered when the doors shut. The shouting came back, stronger than before, in a smoke of noises and anger. Keith block his ears with his hands, cursing himself for forgetting his earplugs, when Shiro walked to him.

“Do you know where the mics are?”

Keith shook his head. James had one, for sure, but they had another maybe they could get back - then try to appease whatever was happening right now. Keith started looking around. He knew most of these people as they were often the same. He knew those faces, sitting in the same spots then had been sitting in for weeks now. Himself always against the wall, at the front, having a clear view of the room. He knew Plaxum, Matt, Rolo, Zethrid, and he even knew James and his friends - Kinkade was silent as always, but Rizavi and Leifsdottir seemed ready to add fuel to the fire. He knew Allura, a few seats behind him, and he knew the guy who was next to her.

Well, he didn’t _know_ him, per se. Keith knew him because he noticed him already, back a few weeks ago when he came for the first time. He was quiet, and always sitting by Allura. Sometimes Keith saw him whispering things to her, and they would giggle. But he never took the mic; always sat there and listened, voted, then left. Upon deeper investigation Keith learned he was Allura’s friend from one of her classes, and was only attending the AGs for now - _for now_ , she insisted, because he wanted to get more involved but had a lot going on. Keith didn’t do friends with comrades, he only asked out of curiosity for a potential newcomer. Who cared if every time, he waited for the young boy to walk down the stairs and greet Allura with a blazing smile? He was too focused on the fight to open his heart to a boy already too busy for protests.

Keith didn’t even know his name, but he sure recognized his face in the crowd, an unusual frown on his face as he took the missing mic from Allura’s hands and stood up. His voice pierced through the mess, chasing black smoke to fill the space with sunlight, and each one of his word was like sweet droplets falling from the sky right into the fire.

At least, that was how it felt for Keith.

His hands left his ears, and Keith focused on the words being threaded together. They weren’t many but brilliantly went to the point, and after a few sentences everyone was forced to stay silent to process all that had just been said. Though Keith had seen the anger on the way hands clenched the mic, the voice stayed clear and peaceful as it called out the awfully racists things that had been expressed inside the walls. All had been said, better than the words on Keith’s paper. When it was done, Keith followed brown hair giving the mic back to Allura and sitting down, as if he didn’t single-handedly reduced the tension in a room of 200 people - like he didn’t single-handedly made a mess of Keith’s heart with the foretaste of his words.

No vote happened as the meeting was postponed to the next day. As soon as it was set, Keith leaned to ask Pidge the question burning his lips - not fast enough, though, as the seat next to Allura’s was empty when he turned back.

His name was Lance. That was what Pidge said. And now the memory of Allura mentioning him once or twice came back to him.

Lance. The sound of his name felt like a ghost in the silence after he didn’t come the next day. Even worse: Romelle took his seat, as if it had never been Lance’s to lose. He never came to any action either, and Keith started to wonder whether he was actually busy or if all the time he was just studying them, curiosity pushing him to be there, waiting for the right moment to have his fun ; and now it was done and he was gone.

Keith had never seen Lance outside of the amphitheater their AG happened, yet disappointment still sink in when he didn’t randomly meet him in corridors, or at lunch, or at the park on sunday mornings, or while grocery shopping. Keith never actually expected to see Lance suddenly appeared into his routine, but he hoped wishful thinking, for once, would prove itself a faithful strategy.

* * *

 Allura wasn’t subtle when she barged in the classroom Lance had claimed for the next few hours. She threw her bag against a chair - maybe to be sure Lance had seen her coming - and shook a piece of paper in front of his eyes. Lance wouldn’t have had to look to know it was the flyers for the meeting and the protest later today.

“Are you coming?” Allura asked, as expected.

And as every time since the last few weeks, Lance stayed focus on his book when he replied. “Nah.”

“This is rid-”

“I just have a book to finish, that’s all. My teachers won’t give me a pass because I was busy with the revolution, sadly.” Lance was only half-joking there - being consciously surviving more than living _and_ fighting against it was exhausting enough, he didn’t need all those exams coming in.

“But don’t you think taking a little bit of your time for the struggle is worth it? Of course you can’t focus on it all the time,” Couldn’t they? Because Lance was sure he knew a guy who did. “and no one’s asking you to, but it’s been weeks of you studying and I’m starting to guess it’s less about education and more about avoiding something.”

“I’m not avoiding him!”

“Well, _I’m_ not the one bringing him up.”

Allura was sneaky, for sure, and Lance fell right into her trap. He sighed and buried his face in his book. “Listen, it’s just… like, I totally embarrassed myself and I can’t look at him in the eyes ever again, he must think I’m so stupid and uneducated so what’s even the point of seeing him again? It’s not like we were even friends anyway.”

“He wouldn’t think that. And most importantly: you didn’t embarrass yourself at all. You left too early to see it, but Griffin actually shut up and even went to see Ezor so she could pass his apologies on to Acxa. His apologies sucked, of course, but at least he tried for once.”

Yeah, Lance could imagine what his apologies sounded like - ‘I’m sorry if what I said hurt you’ or other variations of ‘I think you overreacted and the point wasn’t to make you feel bad but if I did I guess I can say I’m sorry without really meaning it or even understanding the issue’. He put his book a little down, just enough to look quickly at Allura and assess by himself how genuine she seemed - genuine enough. “I just…” Lance shook his head. “Not today, okay? I actually have stuff to do.”

To Lance, it went without saying that what he meant by ‘not today’ was really ‘I acknowledge you are right but I will need time to process it and actually change my behavior accordingly, and it is likely to take at least 6-8 business days (emphasize on ‘at least’)’. It might be less obvious to his friends, though Lance was sure Hunk knew damn well what he was doing with his non-subtle hints at Lance to drop his avoidant strategy. Even Friday nights knew no peace, and Lance couldn’t really blame his friends because he knew they were right, this was ridiculous - but he still would love to walk under the evening sky without their remarks.

“Leave me alone for tonight!” he tried to bargain. “And I swear I’ll go back next meeting, ok?” He was walking backwards in the street, facing Hunk and Allura’s not-convinced faces.

“Really? Because you keep saying that, again and again, and we’ve  left you alone for a lot of ‘tonight’,” Were they, though? Lance didn’t think he had been that bad. “Yet,” Allura continued “Romelle is still the one next to me in AG.”

“Oh, and you’re gonna complain about that, now?” When flushed reached Allura’s cheeks despite her resolute smile, Lance considered it a small victory.

“Don’t change the subject. Though now you mention it... maybe next time you actually come, you can just sit a few seats below us?”

A _very small_ victory, corrected Lance.

“No way. Listen, I’ll come next time, and I’ll sit next to you, but for now I just want to enjoy this evening with you both, away from anything else except the fine chef-d’oeuvre we’re gonna see.” 

* * *

Wishful thinking, as it turned out, was a treacherous strategy Keith wouldn’t trust ever again. Sure, he did wish for Lance to show up in his routine, he couldn’t deny that. But he _didn’t_ wish for him to show up at the café Musain, right in time for the art exhibition Keith was part of, smiling widely to his friends until his eyes noticed Keith and he froze. Keith stopped his sentence, too, his gaze stuck behind Shiro’s shoulder for too many seconds before he was able to turn back toward his brother. Confidence wasn’t part of the things he brought with him tonight, and Keith already wanted to hide, insecurity fulling his veins anytime someone came close to his photography hung up on the wall. So, yes, he did want to see Lance again. But, no, not there, not like that, certainly not now.

“Relax” he heard, making him breathe again, slowly. And it seemed to Keith that it was all Shiro had said since he took him out of the corner he was hiding in.

“I’m trying.”

“Your art is great, people aren’t secretly hating it.”

Shiro couldn’t know Keith was now mostly panicking because of the silhouette he could see in the corner of his eyes, eclipsing his previous anxiety. Though a treacherous part of him had made the link and was wondering whether Lance would hate his photography.

“Are they? Because I’m pretty sure Kinkade spent five minutes staring, frowning, and he left without a word.”

“Because you and him are on speaking terms now?”

“Hm.” Keith hesitated. His mind was struggling to find a way to twist the truth so it could fit into his irrational thoughts. “Well, no. But-”

“But it totally makes sense he wouldn’t come to you. And staring is a good thing, who would spend five minutes in front of a photography they didn’t like?”

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This evening was too much. Keith was confident about a lot of things: he was confident when he was training in the gym, he was confident walking in the streets at night, he was confident about his political opinion - even though he was always open to learn more and let them grow -, he was confident about his own choices in taking actions - except when circumstances forced him to lead a group. But he wasn’t confident about his art, which he barely mentioned, only shared by bits on his instagram, never exposed until today. The fear of people he cared about hating it and leaving him, no whatever how little sense it made, never seemed to leave his heart.

“Okay okay, I get it. It’s not bad, whatever.” Another breath. Irritation replaced his first shock, it raised on his skin the more Lance walked into the room. Keith tried not to look, to ignore, because he didn’t want to deal with that - he couldn’t deal with that now. But Lance seemed to swim in his natural habitat, and it turned out that outside of amphitheaters, Lance was loud. His voice kept tugging at Keith’s ears, begging his eyes to watch, and who was he to resist such a sound?

Keith let himself give in. He left Shiro’s side, ensuring him he was gonna be fine even though it was presumptuous to tell - who knows, after all, if Lance would even want to talk with him? Little steps carried him towards the buffet, but his eyes kept coming back in swift glances to his left, where Lance had stopped in front of Griffin’s painting. Keith knew he couldn’t really mock art - it was so personal, so unique, precious pieces of soul - but he would allow himself to mock Griffin’s, if not only because it was Griffin, also for the fact that Keith couldn’t figure out what it was. But Lance was still looking at it, sharing hushed whispers with Hunk, and Keith couldn’t tell what prompted their laughing. Was it... what? Keith frowned, Shiro’s words coming back to him - who would spend so long in front of a piece they didn’t like? - so he even tried to turn his head, or look at the art from behind his glass in case there was a trick he didn’t get.

The evening took a ridiculous turn. It had been half an hour or Keith and Lance perpetually glancing at the other without trying to be subtle, yet no word had been exchanged. Keith had stayed near the buffet, tiny sandwiches helping him cope with whatever was happening, until he noticed Lance moving away - finally leaving Griffin’s awful art alone. Keith moved. It was silly, Keith could already hear Adam’s input on it later on, dramatically insisting on how frustrating this had been to watch. Because when Keith left the part of the wall he had focused in, ready to at least nod in Lance’s direction as a greeting, he was meet with Lance’s back walking away.

Keith wasn’t sure what game they were playing here. He wasn’t even sure why he kept running away too, everytime Lance came back in his direction; wasn’t sure when it became clear they both knew what they were doing - a silly dance in a small crowd, in which every move was born out of embarrassment and doubts. And if they started with frowns and confusion on their face, Keith ended up noticing a glimpse of a smile when they crossed pass each others, their shoulders as close as they could get without touching.

Their dance came to an end when both of them started to feel the imaginary rhythm slowing down until it stopped. Lance was back with his friends, and Keith had sat on the floor against a wall, closing his eyes, tired of the sounds and lights. Tiny steps came near him, but Keith ignored them until they stopped to sit next to him. Lance’s voice was softer than Keith remembered when he said “Hi.”

Keith opened his eyes, only looking at him for a second. “Hi.”

“I saw your picture.” Lance almost murmured, his voice quite different again - but not less sweet. “It’s good.”

“Is it? You’ve barely spent a minute near it.”

Lance’s eyes raised to his face in surprise, and Keith tried to ignore them by focusing on his shoes. He was the first to wonder about his tone, especially as Lance’s compliment had felt like sugar in his veins. Yet, a pinch of salt remained on his tongue, settling a nest with his instinct to hide what Lance’s words did to him - he was sure a blush would soon reach his face if he allowed himself to let go of all distrust. Hadn’t Lance left him, anyway? Not that the AG has ever been about them both, but surely Lance prevented something to grow, weeks ago, and Keith felt as if he had broke it. Lance simply laughed - and Keith wonder whether he really wanted to build his walls up.

“I... Yeah, that’s fair.”

Keith hated the silence that followed, and he was trying to find how to fill it when Lance sighed and talked again.

“Okay.” His voice was still quiet, not exactly as clear as it had been inside the amphitheater - but not less confident. “I’m just gonna confess something, then.” He waited for Keith to nod - to what? he was seriously in foreign territory and quite afraid of where this was going. “I kinda... Yeah, I had seen your photo before. Because I asked Allura to show me!” Lance hurried to explain at Keith’s frown. “She was so excited and kept telling me about that beautiful picture her friend sent her, and I’m a curious guy? And she was so into promoting you? So she showed me, she also sent me your instagram by the way  - which I might be stalking since then. Anyway, I didn’t look that much at it here because, well. Hm.” Lance took his phone out, got his password in, and awkwardly hold the screen towards Keith. “It’s been on my phone for months now, so…”

Keith recognized the colors right away; the red of the smoke, of the touch of fire in the street he took everyday to go to uni, and the black and grey of the people, mere shapes in the background. The screen was cropping the pic, so the few cops and their violence weren’t on it, leaving all the scene for the effervescence of the protest. Keith was particularly proud of this one. He still remembered taking it; that day, many more students joined them, and Keith barely noticed everyone. He had stayed on the side, wanting to get the better shots - for history, at first, but he fell in love with the raw emotion in one second. He had been so excited about that specific shot that he had edited it on the same evening and had sent it to Allura for validation. Keith never linked the two events before, but Lance had started going to the meetings soon after.

“So you’d rather spend your evening with Griffin’s amazing piece?”

“Is that sarcasm? I thought we had similar tastes, but I just made fun on this painting all night, it’s embarrassing.”

“Oh thanks god. I didn’t get it either.”

Both of their laugh escaped in tiny waves, filling only the space between them - turning the embarrassment to sweetness.

“So, hm.” Lance started again. “While I’m at it, can I confess something else?”

“Did Allura show you more pictures? Because the old ones are bad, I know, she shouldn’t still have them, and I don’t take constructive criticism.”

“No, it’s not about that. It’s just... it’s silly.” Silly and intriguing. Keith nodded for Lance to continue, encouraging him in his stumble of words. “Maybe... maybe I started going to meetings… just to... see you.”

Oh. Interesting new piece of information. One that Allura likely knew about but never mentioned - could Keith consider that betrayal? After all, he was the one to introduce her to Romelle, she could have at least dropped hints for him to pick! Still, it was a very sweet new piece of information. One that Keith really wanted to scream about into a pillow. Yet, he was a bitter man, and couldn’t stop his lips when they betrayed his thoughts again.

“If you wanted to see more of me, you could have actually come to the actions you voted for.” Or come back to the AG. At this point, Keith didn’t care if Lance never get more involved.

“I could have.” Lance conceded easily, surprising Keith who had expected excuses he wouldn’t really want to hear. “Or I could see more of you at the café Musain again, on Friday morning?

“I doubt it, the meetings are usually in the evening.” Keith rarely went to the café that early. There were only a few moment where it was calm enough for him to enjoy being there, often he could bring his laptop and work, or read near a window, sipping on a cup of tea. But he had been too busy for that lately, and he only crossed the doors when he had something to do.

It took a few second for Keith to realize Lance’s question was unusual - something felt off, as if the point went over his head - but that was only when he saw Lance biting his lip, torned between embarrassment and laughing, than Keith understood what was hidden behind those words.

OH.

Okay.

Realization must have shown on his face, and Lance tried again - embarrassment clear on his face now.

“So... could I?”

“Would that mean I wouldn’t see you in AG again?”

“Oh, no! I didn’t go just for you. I mean, obviously it played a good part in my motivation, but I’m also genuinely interested! I just stopped going because I embarrassed myself last time, you know, with the whole actually taking the mic and politely telling people to fuck off thing. But I could... I mean I can come back. I will. Sure.” Keith’s smugness had been replaced by a full frown Keith didn’t even try to hide. “Or I won’t?” Lance sighed. “I don’t... Sorry I don’t know, I just panicked. That’s exactly why I shouldn’t talk in public, I just ramble all the time.”

“No no no, it’s fine.” Sure, Lance was rambling now, but Keith felt the same way inside, his emotions running around aimlessly in his chest. “Please, talk to me. Actually you... talk really… well.” Keith internally slapped himself after this lame short compliment. ‘Really well’ was an understatement, and not even a good one.

Lance had a way with words. Lance could say anything, and Keith would listen for hours, he would struggle to focus on each to make sure he got them all, he would close his eyes and let his voice carry him. Lance knew how to create a beautiful bouquet of words, and what striked Keith even more was how he could make it mean so much, in so little time, with so much strength.

“Oh. Be careful what you wish for.”

“I am, don’t worry.” Keith let a smirk played on his lip. “I know what I want.”

He could still hear the simple way in which Lance accused the police, with no aggressivity in his tone even though the hate was clear behind his eyes, and without allowing space for any counter-argument. He clearly remembered how it felt like all that was coming out of Lance’s mouth was dangerous truth - the kind you think about all the time, the kind you discuss in closed circles of friends, but the kind you never dare to say under the state’s eyes - and how all Keith had wanted to do was to get closer to those beautiful words, close enough to taste them directly on his tongue.

“Would that, by any chance, include going around the art exhibition with me, and giving me your number so we can settle this date?”

The few pieces of confidence Keith had gathered during their conversation startled a little at Lance’s smile, guiding his voice with a tiny bit of hesitation - but no less charm.

“It does.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sorry for the enjoltaire vibe
> 
> don't hesitate to leave a kudo and comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
